by Vella Munn
“Don’t scare me,” Michon groaned as her stomach settled into an uneasy knot. What was she doing? If she were where she wanted to be, in Chas’s canoe, the thought of the rapids would fill her with a sense of excitement. It was a different story now that she knew how much Harry depended on her.
As if he knew she needed distracting, Harry pointed out a flat area called Liberty Bottom on their right. “From what we’ve been able to figure out, it was named during the Centennial Year of 1876. I’m sorry, but there’s no way you can get away from history around here.”
There wasn’t, Michon agreed, as she took advantage of the quiet water they were traveling on now. It was hard to get much of a sense of history while living in the middle of a modern city. But the John Day was alive with it, capable of bridging the gap between past and present. The more she thought about it, the more the idea Harry had brought up excited her. Had she kept any of her old history books? But better than reading about history was getting Harry—or Chas—to tell her about the river’s past.
She was concentrating so intently on the barren landscape, trying to feel what the early settlers might have felt, that she almost ran into Chas’s canoe before she realized that he’d stopped and turned sideways in the river. He waited, back paddling easily until the rest of the canoes were gathered around him.
He was looking at Michon as he spoke. “We’ll be reaching Homestead Rapids soon,” he said loud enough to be heard above the constant rumble of moving water. “Just before we get there we’ll turn slightly to the left around a bluff. The river will start to pick up speed. Stay left. The river smashes into a small bluff in the right channel so we’re going to stick to the quiet water to the left. I’ve been here when the rapids were a class-three, but the river isn’t high enough to give us that kind of a challenge.”
“What happens if we don’t stay to the left?” one of the boys asked.
“Then you buy me a new canoe. If you get sucked into the right channel there’s no way you’re going to avoid getting swept into the base of the bluff.”
Don’t say that, Michon moaned silently. Don’t scare me, Chas. She was aware of his dark eyes on her as she fought with the secret she shared with Harry. If she kept silent Harry would have his pride. But her silence also ran the risk of smashing both her and Harry against the bluff.
What was she afraid of? Chas said that all they had to do was follow him as he bore left. The river had been her friend so far. This morning her shoulders felt strong, her fingers sure as they wrapped around the paddle. They would probably tire later on, but now she felt as crisp as the new day. What was she? A mannequin smiling woodenly in a dress shop, or a woman ready to face a challenge?
“Let’s go,” she said. “What are we waiting for?”
Chas’s eyes didn’t release her. “Nothing,” he said finally. His back turning toward her as he faced the oncoming rapids finished the sentence.
It isn’t what you think, Michon thought as she fell in line behind him. What’s happening today has nothing to do with you and me. Last night was still perfect in her mind. She wanted—desperately—for it to be repeated. But this was morning, and she was doing her best to handle responsibility. Love and lovemaking belonged to nights on the John Day. Days belonged to the job she’d taken on.
Michon leaned forward, placing the bulk of her weight on her legs. At the same time she rose off her seat in order to raise herself in the canoe and improve her view of the oncoming rapids. Her hands clutched the paddle. She wanted to give Harry a brave smile as he turned to glance at her, but she wasn’t sure how well she pulled it off. The sound of the river grew in intensity as the sleek craft surrendered to the water’s will.
As sprays of water hit her face and dampened her clothing, Michon said a silent thank you for the sense of security her life vest gave her. Even if she wound up on the bluff, at least she wouldn’t drown.
But she wasn’t going to let the right channel claim her! Michon fought the countercurrent with every ounce of strength in her arms and shoulders, relishing the opportunity to test herself. As she gave herself up to the essential task of following Chas’s lead, she realized that, for the first time today, Harry was doing his share of the work. Cold spray hit her face, roaring water filled her ears. For a few seconds nothing existed except the river’s strength and her role in it.
Because of the speed of the river through the rapids they were safely past Homestead Rapids before tension and alertness had time to fight fear in Michon’s mind. She leaned back, lifted her face, and threw her damp hair back over her shoulders. She’d done it! And without Chas to lean on!
“No more?” she heard Harry groan. The look on his white face as he turned back toward her told the story. The journey through the rapids had been torture for him.
“Let’s stop,” Michon suggested. “You need to rest. See that old farm building up there? I’ll take us to shore and you can get out.”
Harry’s voice was unusually sharp. “I’m okay. It was just going through the rapids that got to me for a minute. Can you handle things now? I’m going to take it easy for a little while.”
Neither of them spoke for perhaps half an hour. Michon would have preferred to be able to concentrate on the sights around them as the river bore them gently on their journey, but concern for Harry and confusion over what, if anything, she was going to say to Chas kept her from enjoying the hills to the right, made red by iron oxide, and black swaths through the red which were the result of volcanic ash settlement.
Finally Harry straightened. “How are you holding up?” he asked. “Arms getting tired?”
Michon moved her shoulders. “I’m okay,” she replied. She was feeling a little weaker than she wanted to admit, but that was her concern, not Harry’s. “How about you?”
“Let’s don’t talk about that. I want to talk about pleasant subjects. You know, you really did a good job back then.”
“You didn’t do half badly yourself,” she admitted. “You held up your end of the job.”
“I’m not so sure about that, but I appreciate the compliment. Are you sure you don’t have Indian blood in you?”
“I don’t think so. Why?”
“Because you take to a canoe as if you were born to it. I’ve seen people who never stop fighting a canoe. They get it into their heads that the canoe is going to do what they want it to, and nothing ever changes their minds.” He turned briefly to give her a wink. “You go with the flow. You accept what’s happening on the river and don’t fight it.”
“I guess that’s true,” Michon admitted. “Watching Chas yesterday helped. He’s a good teacher.”
“He is good, isn’t he?” This time Harry’s wink had a decidedly teasing quality to it.
Michon blushed and dropped her eyes. How much did Harry know?
“Don’t be embarrassed,” the older man continued. “There’s nothing like a moon and a little guitar music to get the old romantic juices flowing, is there? I’m not so ancient that I don’t know that. Do you mind if I give you a little advice?”
“Of course not,” she said, not sure what her real reaction was.
“Don’t try to change Chas. Don’t try to put a tie on him or bring him out of the wilderness. It isn’t going to work.”
Michon’s eyes were locked on the strong back ahead of them. “I’ll never try to change him. He’s perfect the way he is,” she said softly. “This is where he belongs.”
“I thought you might say that. There aren’t many men like Chas Carson left in this world. It’s a breed that should never become extinct. Most of us settle for working for some large company, making house payments, spending our winters sitting in a warm house. There aren’t many who run their own businesses, build their own homes, feel more at home on a river than in a car.”
But Chas does. And that’s what I love about him.
Love? There was that word again. They hadn’t known each other very long, surely not long enough for Michon to have fallen in love. But what else explaine
d her feelings around Chas?
She knew enough about herself to realize she wouldn’t have spent the night with him if he hadn’t reached her in some deep, private way. He was all she’d ever hoped for in the way of a lover, but that was only part of what Chas was. Even now, with his life vest covering his athletic body and water flattening his hair against his head, he was the most magnetic man she’d ever met.
Chas knew who he was. He was at peace with himself. And that was what drew her to him.
“Do you think he’s a wild animal, Harry?” she asked. “A throwback to pioneer days? Maybe he doesn’t belong in the twentieth century.”
“Oh, he belongs, all right. As long as you don’t try to stick him in an air-conditioned high rise, he’ll do just fine.” Harry’s laugh reached her over the sound of water lapping against the canoe. “He never said much, but I think that’s what went wrong with the woman he used to go with. At least part of what went wrong. She couldn’t accept that he marched to the beat of a different drummer.”
And April lost because she couldn’t see that. She lost that one man in a million. Michon could only pray that the damage April had done to Chas wasn’t irreparable. She hadn’t thought about it last night or this morning, but Chas hadn’t said anything about love or commitment when he took her in his arms. He’d said he wanted her, and that had been enough for her then.
But if he’d turned to her only because his need was physical, that wasn’t enough. Michon wanted more than that from Chas Carson—needed more.
She squeezed her eyes tightly against the wave of thought washing over her and fought her way to the surface. “I’m ready for another history lesson,” she managed. “You said something about there being a Burnt Ranch Rapids. Where did the name come from?”
Harry chuckled. “Changing the subject are you? All right. If that’s what you want to do, I’ll play along. Burnt Ranch? We can thank the Indians for that. The story goes that a couple of men were living in a house near here in the eighteen-sixties. One day they forded the river and were gathering driftwood when a band of Indians headed toward the house. Since their rifles were in the house, the men jumped on their horses and crossed the river, hoping to get to the house before the Indians. They didn’t make it.”
“They were killed?”
“Don’t get ahead of me, young lady. I’m trying to make this story good. When the Indians started waving the weapons around, the two men decided they weren’t much of a match for Indians with rifles, so they took off for the high country. By the time they found some packers to help them fight off the Indians, their house had been ransacked and set afire. No one sent the Indians a bill for the damage. A house was eventually built there, but the name stuck.”
“Does anyone live there now?”
“No. Not much reason to live around here now. Gold was discovered here in the eighteen-sixties. That’s what brought men here for a while. If you want to learn more I suggest you borrow one of the books I brought with me.”
“You aren’t going to give up on me, are you? You’d probably give me a pop quiz on it if I read the book,” Michon laughed. She turned serious. “What about the rapids?”
“They worry you, don’t they?”
“They shouldn’t,” she said bravely. “I got through the earlier ones all right.” What she didn’t add was that she’d been fresher then. Her arms now felt the strain of her morning’s effort.
Chapter Eleven
The expedition was still upstream of the rapids when Chas signaled for the others to follow him as he headed for a sandy beach opposite a large bluff. Michon landed her canoe near Chas’s, jumped ashore, and then held the craft steady as Harry slowly got out. She longed to say something to Chas, but it was clear that he was concentrating on the river ahead of them and not on her.
“I’m going to climb the bluff and take a look at the rapids,” Chas explained when he had everyone assembled around him. He pointed at three of the boys, indicating that they were to join him. “If the river were a little higher we could cheat the rapids by staying to the right and cutting inside the curve of white water. Unfortunately there isn’t enough water for that.”
“Should we carry our canoes around the rapids?” one of the girls asked. “The river sounds angry.”
Chas laughed, but his eyes were serious. “A river always sounds angry when it’s battling its way around rocks. No. We came to conquer this river, not the other way around. I need to get a look at the rocks. Climbing the bluff is the only way to get a decent view of them. The rest of you might want to have something to eat, since there isn’t a suitable place to land for the next few miles. We can come ashore in an emergency, but the land around here is under cultivation. I don’t want some farmer breathing down our necks.”
Chas’s words were Michon’s signal for action. She identified the canoe that was carrying the day’s lunch. Before she had the food unloaded Chas was out of sight. Too bad, she thought, taking pride in the easy way she was assuming control of at least this small part of the expedition. Maybe her experience with Chantilla had some benefits. She had had experience in dealing with people. As long as she sounded as if she knew what she was doing, they let her take control. She bit into her sandwich, surprised to find herself famished.
“Worked up an appetite?” Harry asked her as he joined her. “I couldn’t help but notice. Your fingernails are taking a beating.”
“You don’t think I’ll get any work modeling my hands, do you?” She pasted on a look of despair. “There goes my career. Are you going to eat?”
Harry frowned. “I guess. I haven’t worked up the appetite you have. The rapids don’t last long. Do you think you’re up to it?”
“We’re going to find out.” Michon shook her head. She’d been putting up a brave front all morning, but Harry had to know that she had a few reservations. “Staying away from the submerged rocks is going to be the problem. I just hope my prying stroke is strong enough.”
“You have a good sweep,” Harry observed.
“You haven’t seen me in many rapids,” Michon pointed out. “You’re going to have to look out for the rocks. I can’t see them from the stern.”
Harry nodded, a motion that caused his face to contort. “Darn shoulder! Doesn’t want me to move at all. That makes me the captain, doesn’t it? I just hope Chas doesn’t find anything that might give us trouble.”
Michon couldn’t agree more. While she was in the canoe, concentrating on moving the canoe smoothly down the river and taking in the landscape, she didn’t have much time to think about what she would do in an emergency. But they were on shore now. The river was a few feet away, a relentless current drawing them toward Burnt Ranch Rapids.
Michon was making sure that the group hadn’t left behind any garbage after their quick lunch when Chas and the boys returned. She handed them sandwiches and waited to hear what Chas had to say.
“It’s moving a little faster than I’d like it to. There are some rocks we’re going to have to steer clear of because they’re close to the surface.” He was looking at Michon as he finished. “We’ll be staying right center the whole distance. Don’t get sucked in close to the rocks. We’ll be in trouble if that happens. The river drops about ten feet in a hundred yards, which means it’s really moving.”
That I don’t need to hear, Michon thought, but she joined the others as they again entered the river. It wouldn’t be so bad if she had a partner capable of doing his share of the work. She knew Harry would do his best, but Michon knew that there comes a time when pain takes the upper hand, and no matter how much a person wants to do something, it isn’t going to happen.
That’s what happened to her grandfather. He’d fought having to move in with his son’s family after he became a widower, but then he broke his hip, and climbing the stairs in his house became a physical impossibility. Michon loved having him living with them. There was someone to talk to when she got home from school, someone with time to listen when there was some boy she
had to talk about. Michon’s regret was that she’d been so wrapped up in growing up that she hadn’t been as sensitive as she should have been to what was happening to her grandfather. She saw it now in Harry, the fierce way he fought for dignity, for independence. Her grandfather was dead, but maybe she could pay him back by being there for Harry. She was learning that there was no generation gap between her and the teenagers. The same was true of her relationship with Harry.
“You stay behind me,” Chas warned as the canoes were poised at the start of the rapids. “I don’t want anything to happen.”
“Like what?” Michon asked.
“You tell me,” Chas shot back. “You decided you didn’t need my help anymore. You accept the consequences.”
Michon’s eyes flashed fury. “You’re not the only one who can make decisions, Chas Carson! I’m an adult, not a child.”
“I know you’re an adult,” he said softly. “The point is, one day on the river doesn’t make you an expert.”
“I’ll never become one if I keep clinging to your shirttail. Are we going to run this river, or are we going to sit here talking all day?”
“We’re running the river. Ready?” he called out and then dipped his paddle deeply into the water.
Michon followed close behind him. Her blood still boiled with the aftereffects of their heated exchange. Maybe she was out of line in the way she spoke, but he was out of line by insinuating that she needed to be led around by a leash. The man had already taken over more of her than she dreamed possible. Part of her struggled to remain free.
The cold water splashing on her face quickly erased her anger. There was no time now to think about what Chas was capable of doing to her senses, her heart. The river held all the power now.
Ahead, of her, standing waves were piling up, creating higher peaks and deeper troughs. Michon rotated her shoulders toward the gunwale, punched out with her lower hand and leaned, using the bracing stroke more out of instinct than training. She had no time to see what Harry was doing, but from the pulling sensation around her, she knew she was doing most of the work.
